Forever::Beyond the Golden Mean
by Winter Skye
Summary: Concluding the Way Beyond trilogy begun in Ever::Dreamtime. Sam must choose the path her journey will take. (Chapter 4 now up)
1. Compassion

SPOILERS : From S5.21 Meridian onward

DISCLAIMER : Stargate is the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. No infringement on copyrights and trademarks is intended. All original material is copyrighted to the author.

NOTES : None of this will make sense unless you've read the first two parts in this trilogy. And if you already have... be afraid.

Special thanks go to Aru for being a brave beta under the most trying conditions; and to Ria Lucas for continued words of hope and serious encouragement.

* * *

compassion (n) :  
  
1: a deep awareness of and sympathy for another's suffering.  
  
2: the humane quality of understanding the suffering of others and  
wanting to do something about it.

_Conversations with Sam..._

* * *

"Have you never considered? About the Asgard and the Goa'uld? And the others? The Nox and the Tollan? The Furling? Why the Asgard perpetuate a mythology of their own? How the Nox do not involve themselves? Where the Furling have gone? Why only the Asgard interfere? Do you wonder why a race so old remains corporeal, why they see themselves as protectors? Do you ever wonder to see the Valkyrie?

"Do you not see that you emerged too soon. You're still young, but you take it upon yourselves to interfere. The Asgard are old and dying. The Tollan are almost dead and the Nox are too remote, too removed from the chaos all about them. You act without thought, without knowledge, without wisdom.

"It is never easy to walk among the stars and yet remain apart.

"How can any person know that the choices they make will affect one or a thousand others? That they all might live, or ten thousand more might die? And having made one choice should you stop? Or would you continue? Would you continue until you reckon yourself absolved of your guilt? Do you sit, isolated, or do you accept the consequences of your actions?

"Do you understand compassion?

"If you see a child, a girl, lying hurt, would you help her? Or would you ask yourself who is this child? Where does she come from? Where does she go? If I save her life, will another die?

"Remember: there is no good, there is no evil — there is only truth.

"Do you know the truth?"

...

The grass is always green in the eternal garden, the lotus blossom always bright and fresh. It is a place to sit and reflect. Master Chen tends the garden. He always has; he always will, for as long as he lives. It is his garden. He created it from his heart, from his soul, nourishing it with all that his life contains.

When their time comes, all those who are chosen will sit with him, for a while at least, so that they might receive his instruction. Seldom will any words be exchanged — that is not the way of the garden. Neither is his benevolence sought, nor are words of praise or encouragement asked for or indeed given. The master tends his garden. It is his way — those who sit with him have their own journey. Enlightenment is not his to give, yet those whose lives he touches are the wiser for his instruction.

The tiger stalks the garden, treading carefully over the delicate grass, listening intently to the master's shallow breathing, sensing the slow rise and fall of his chest. He has grown so old that little life remains, yet the garden still thrives. She stands slowly, drawing her light tunic about her. She knows that she will be the last, that every moment, every heartbeat is so precious.

She sits quietly opposite him, folding her legs beneath her, resting her hands upon her knees, palms open to the warmth of the sun. She sits easily in quiet supplication, her gaze steady, examining the lines on his face, each crease, each wrinkle, each fold. No longer does she fear or pity him as she regards the empty sockets where his eyes once shone.

Slowly, she calms herself, closes her eyes, lets her breathing match his. In her soul she pictures herself within the garden — simply at first, then adding detail upon detail. Each leaf, each blade of grass she recalls; every shadow that falls she sees, every nuance, every shade of color, of light, of dark. The sun never sets over the eternal garden; the shadows mark the passage of time with a precision so much more accurate than any mechanical contrivance.

She will sit, learning, watching the garden grow about her, absorbing its essence, expanding her awareness. She will watch the master tend the garden, giving of his spirit selflessly.

...

"Hey, Sam."

"Daniel?" She turns toward the voice, "Is it really you?"

Her old friend smiles disarmingly. "As if it could be anyone else," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Did you think I'd forget you?"

"Well, no, but I never thought to see you here. Come closer, let me look at you." She sees the thought behind his smile as he approaches. "Someone has to pay the price," she shrugs.

He sits beside her, taking her hand in his. "Yes," is all he can say.

"I started it, Daniel. You did all that you could to end it, but Oma..."

"She had no other choice. You had no other choice."

"I was weak." he says, regarding her closely.

"We are who – and what – we are," Sam laughs.

"Although the ascetic look is..." Daniel begins. Sam wears no make-up and keeps her hair gone. Her ears are closed, her eyes empty, her lips thin and pale. The simple robe she wears is quite white in stark contrast to the garden itself. "... quite disturbing, actually." But she hasn't aged a day.

"A broken mirror —"

"Never again reflects. Yes, I know. Very... _Zen_ of you." Daniel frowns. "But to confine yourself here?"

"I do not see myself as outside. Why enter?"

"More Zen," Daniel can't keep the concern out of his voice. "Is that all you have?"

"No, Daniel. I have so much more. Don't let my appearance deceive you — I can change it on a whim, but for now it suits my needs," her voice trails off. "I still..." she chokes, "He was a good teacher."

Daniel bows his head in respect. "His passing has not gone unnoticed."

"And it's too late for you to stop me, Daniel." Sam says abruptly. "What I did can no longer be undone. Even she understands that now."

"Oh?" Daniel regards her curiously. "If you mean Oma, she's stopped me before. Why would she let you..." he pauses at Sam's enigmatic smile, "interfere," he finishes uncertainly. "Still, he should have joined us," he persists. "It was expected of him. He was the eldest, the wisest."

"And still all you can talk of is liberation," Sam shakes her head sadly, disappointed. "Here," she stands, helping Daniel to his feet. "Lend me some of your strength." She squeezes his hand reassuringly, sighing as the primal energy flows through the physical link. "I have all I need for myself, but..." she spreads her arms wide. "Don't you _see_?" The garden that has been black for so long fills with life once more.

Daniel's eyes shine with joy at the beauty, the perfection all around him. "But you can't stay here forever," he tries to empathize with her but his voice breaks with despair.

"This is the _eternal garden_," Sam reassures him. "I hold it here," she folds her hands over her heart. "What else could anyone ever want?"

...

"Everyone you have ever loved, everyone you have ever touched will be lost to you. Can you live with that? Can you turn your back on them? Can you live with not knowing? They might live long, happy lives, or they may all die tomorrow.

"They will be lost to you, and you will not be able to say farewell.

"You cannot play with their hearts and minds. Only Oma interferes. She shows those who are far too young that life does not always end with death. You cannot let them believe that they might know you again.

"I know that you love him.

"I know that you would give your life for him, as he would for you. Lay aside the ghosts that would haunt you; put behind you your selfless devotion. It is not between us that you must choose, but the paths that your journey will take.

"Your Colonel waits for you now. There can be no turning back.

...

"Daniel?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I'm afraid."

"I know. So was I before I returned; but the division was necessary. I've learned not to interfere; I don't even watch anymore," Daniel confesses. "My price is to be ignorant of all earthly suffering for as long as I remain. To think about it – or even to try to infer it from the actions of others – is too much. But you —"

"No, Daniel; you don't understand. Before Anubis ascended, I... I thought I knew what the consequences would be; I thought I knew how history would unfold. Yet all I saw was my daughter..."

"No matter how much you think you've changed," Daniel says quietly, "On the inside, you're still only human..."

"But my daughter isn't," Sam laughs awkwardly. "She never was — only I never saw it then." She sees Daniel's blank look. "You really don't know, do you?"

...

The moment is almost upon her. She waits, watching.

Anubis emerges first from the stargate, his Jaffa spreading out behind him, charging past, firing their weapons indiscriminately.

Sam watches the people she will come to call her own scatter in all directions. There is no warning she can give, no cry to avert the impending destruction and the desolation that will follow. She has to wait for the bloody events to unfold before her.

She has to wait for Anubis to claim the world that would be hers before she can act, before she can dare to adjust ever so slightly the way between.

She has to wait...

She watches in horror as panic and pandemonium spread, as innocent people fall before they can escape to the way beyond.

She has to wait...

She sees the young girl running; she sees her stumble and fall. She sees the briefest moment of fear in her eyes as Anubis strides up to her, as he stands over her, as he bends down to scoop her up in one massive claw. The demon bellows out his rage, the girl's face inches from his gaping jaws.

She has to wait...

She trembles as the girl's neck fills his gaping maw, as huge teeth slice through the girl's throat, crunching through bone, sucking her blood loudly and jubilantly into his mouth.

She has to wait...

She knows that Anubis watches her, that he only has eyes for her. He bellows his anger, his great body trembling as his rage grows, as he shakes the child until her head falls.

She has to wait...

She hadn't known how special her daughter was — that she could follow her through the way beyond. She watches her daughter's severed head bounce. She watches it roll until it lays still, staring up at her, pleading to her even in death.

She has to wait...

... but she cannot.


	2. Blood and Tears

_"There is no logical reason; there never is._

"We all have our own fears, our own secrets, doors to our innermost and very private neuroses and psychoses that we keep locked shut, too afraid to open them to inspection — personal or otherwise. We all have our own flaws that make us what we are. For the most part they help keep us alive; it's healthy to be afraid, to be watchful, just as it's comforting to have friends who watch our backs, who are afraid for us.

"Doubt is our own worst enemy. Know that you are right, and act on it. 'Him whom hesitates, yadda yadda yadda,'_ as Jack would say; but it isn't that simple — it can't be, or I wouldn't be here._

"Toss a coin.

"Experience gives us an edge. It gives us the chance to beat the odds, but how long can we go on winning? How long can we keep on gambling when the stakes are so high?

"Above all, never stop to think who or what you're saving. Never ever stop to think of the sacrifice because, believe me, you'll just be deluding yourself.

"Would you risk your life to save a comrade? Your best friend? Your lover — if you had one? Would you risk your life for the world on which you live? Even when your world is doomed on its own? When the threat of the Goa'uld is nothing more than a passing inconvenience in its vainglorious path to its own self-destruction?

"Yes, still you would risk your life. Not because to do so is the ultimate, selfless sacrifice.

"That is not the reason.

"You risk your life because you'd rather be dead.

"You risk your life because you'd rather be dead than suffer the agony of failure. You'd rather be dead than see everyone you know, everyone you love, die before you."

...

Three years had passed, yet time had remained apart. The way beyond was theirs now, all the stars but motes of light, all the planets but grains of sand, cold harbors from the storms on the seas of eternity.

In her arms, Sam held her daughter, so small, so fragile and so innocent of the world about her; so serene in sleep, so beguiling in wakefulness. Every moment was a singular delight; but the crying... Saurav reassured her, but she wished it otherwise.

She leaned back into Saurav's arms as tears again filled her eyes. Never before had she been so complete, so filled with happiness. Never before had she so little control over her emotions. Still she was learning to let the tears flow.

The way beyond was theirs, but the small island was still their home, and the Nox their closest companions. The joy that was Nafrayu appeared and disappeared, busying himself harvesting fruit and vegetables. His innate curiosity had brought him to them, and he remained close, doting on the baby, cherishing her new life as she and Saurav did.

Nafrayu had held Sam's hand as she came into the world. Lya had stood at her side, Anteaus had frowned... but Nafrayu had held her hand, had wiped her brow, his youthful spirit comforting her as each of them eased the pain of her daughter's birth.

The choice had been hers.

She'd turned her back on Jack – she'd long ago stopped thinking of him as her commanding officer – but she had never forgotten him. She'd sat for a while with her future-self, she'd listened to all that she'd had to say — and all that she hadn't. Durga had taught her to twist the way between, to hide herself and those she loved. Saurav had been waiting for her on the small moon. And when they'd come back, Jack... Jack had gone.

Three years before, she and Saurav had gone to the Nox, to ask their blessing to live on the island. The Nox had shown no surprise, they'd recognized Saurav for who and what he was immediately. They knew of Siva and Durga, and yet as cautious as they were, they hadn't hesitated to welcome them.

Three years before she'd been tired and so very much alone. She had been so complicated she couldn't have imagined herself appreciating living such a simple existence; just as now she couldn't ever imagine herself going back, but she had known that one day she would have to.

Sam wiped away her tears. Nafrayu's path had become entangled with their own now. What was yet to be done was not intended to affect Earth or the Nox. Nafrayu was happy providing them with roots and berries; he was content watching over them and their daughter — but in the years to come? The Nox would certainly hesitate to let Nafrayu leave.

So she tries to imagine her daughter grown up and living amongst the most harmonious, the most peaceful of all races. Lya had held her up to the sky, had marked her forehead with water and the living earth. The Nox had given her daughter their blessings; now they would give her a name.

Sam smiled and let the tears come again.

...

The day came so much more quickly than she could have imagined.

Sam knelt uneasily in front of her daughter; they had never been apart before. There was no easy way to explain to her that she had to go away, that for a while she had strange things to do on strange worlds and that her daughter couldn't come with her.

Of course, her daughter was _five_ years old. The _Oh, Mother!_ look came first, then the _I'm not a baby_ frown, swiftly followed by a knowing _things I can get away with_ smile, hurriedly replaced by an _I'll be brave for you_ pout. At least Sam was glad that she had the sense not to run off immediately, dragging Nafrayu into her mischief-making.

The dread was still there. She had spent an eternity alone, and here she was with a family she was leaving behind so that she could twist time and space, creating the very paradox that would lead to their new beginning.

The gate whispered into life at her gesture. She glanced back. Saurav was as calm as ever, her daughter and Nafrayu standing before him, holding hands. Saurav nodded his encouragement, but still she never expected her leaving to be so painful.

She emerged from the stargate into a world that was so familiar and yet so alien. All traces of the Goa'uld had been removed, but there was no way to imagine how — the paradox was already resolved, although for that part of her in the eternal garden, she still had to live it.

The world still had to settle down, to accept its new shape as its history was rewritten. It was not a simple matter to weave the way between, encouraging it to accept that centuries of existence be drawn tight together, squeezed so compact that the weft merged into a single string that could be plucked from the warp.

The way between was never easily deceived. Shades of what had been still lingered, ghosts unwilling to be tossed aside lightly. All that had been still resonated in the air as harmonics, echoes of the past.

There was so much work to be done.

None of the loose strings could be simply abandoned. Some – such as those containing the remnants of the invading Goa'uld – would be made to collapse, their energies dissipated. Others, like the eternal garden, would have to be inserted into the new weaving. Even more complicated, some strings would be have to be re-sequenced, taken out of the context of the way between before being re-placed to maintain order.

There was only one way to re-sequence a string and that was to live it. She knew that she will have done so once before, although she had no memory of it – she could have no memory of it – but the echoes would still reverberate.

And she smiled to herself as she walked away from the gate — quantum: always, it was quantum.

In classical mechanics, there was no general solution for the three-body problem. Nor was there a solution for the two-body problem — except that relativistic quantum field theory, well, just plain cheated. As for the one-body problem... that was one place she didn't want to go. Which left the zero-body problem and the vacuum of space. And just as a vacuum could never be empty, so even a null-string had to vibrate. The theory was beautiful in its elegance and simplicity, yet so far beyond simple understanding. She even had a name for it, for the paper she would never write: quantum super-imposed null-string theory.

The stargate shut itself down behind her.

_"The first temple is already solidifying,"_ Durga whispered, her voice calm. Durga opened her eyes to the way as Sam stretched her arms wide, visualizing the two strings, temple and gate. With her left hand she pulled on the gate, drawing out the string she'd woven in her passage through it; in her right hand, she caught the strand of the temple. Now she had to connect them, manipulating the weft, anchoring the temple to its new place in the way between.

Carefully, she drew her hands together; the strings would only stretch so far. Just before her hands met the strings would break – each snap the sound of one hand clapping – only to join with each other making a single new string.

Durga smiled and Sam relaxed. The part of herself that was sustaining the garden would hear the distant vibrations, would know that her journey was almost at an end. Her own way was becoming clearer: links could now be forged between the past and the present, and the loops that had been kept separate would join with the sunrise in the forever of the way beyond.

But still the temple wavered, and as always Durga calmed her. Again, she stretched her arms wide, to the temple and the gate. This time she had to reach further, she had to see the before of the temple, the before of her arrival here, the before of Jack's arrival on the island, to join the what was of the way between.

Again, she opened her left hand to the gate and her right to the temple. She saw the strings and held them, yet almost immediately an itch began to gnaw at her left hand. Confusion crept into her awareness; uncertainty threatened to paralyze her. The itch began to burn. She tried to let go as Durga had taught her, but her hand refused to obey. An electric hum began to beat at her ears, and dimly she saw the gate not through the between, but from the beyond; she saw the vibration and fought to control her fear.

The gate had been activated.

She watched the cold event-horizon begin to take form, her hand trapped in a between that couldn't exist, her fingers burning with impossible, naked null-strings. She watched the worm-hole splash out, the weight of the way between pulling it, stretching it out until it engulfed her arm.

Sam looked inwards to Durga, but she had no answer. She looked to the temple only to see it fade as she blinked. Instinct alone told her that the stargate was her only salvation. With a silent prayer, Sam opened her right hand. The weight of the strings pulled her in, through the event horizon, stretching her across space, across time.

What she was, she had no idea. What she would become, was most likely meaningless. She knew that matter could only travel one way through an open worm-hole. But she also knew that, ultimately, matter was nothing more than strings. Trillions upon trillions of strings, inconceivably small localizations of energy. And strings formed the basis of the way beyond.

And her consciousness?

Slowly, she realized that she was still reasoning. She had no shape, not in any physical sense — or any other kind that she understood. But her left hand still burned and her right... that was still open, empty.

Except... she closed her hand and it no longer burned — there was no physical sensation at all. There was no hot or cold, no light or dark, no sound, no taste, no sense of smell. There was no notion of time – except that one thought followed another – and she knew that the worm-hole wouldn't stay open for ever, but she wouldn't panic.

There was no pain when the worm-hole closed.

She didn't know that it had.

...

Sometimes it was best not knowing. Jack knew when to ask questions and when to accept that the General had his reasons. It hadn't stopped him asking more questions, but he hadn't got any more answers. Besides, if Carter couldn't survive a week alone on a deserted island overflowing with fresh fruit and vegetables, he didn't know who could.


	3. Demonic Delusions

The debate had been quite heated, but sheer dogged determination had finally persuaded Hammond to let him check up on Carter. What could be the harm of a friendly face, he'd argued. He knew that Carter would be all right, but he just needed to prove it for himself. The truth – and everyone knew it – was that he could hardly last a weekend without going mad for not being near her. Even without all the coffee, his heart-rate had become erratic and his blood pressure had gone through the roof. Hammond had all but ordered him to go fishing, but Fraiser had come through for him in the end.

Just five minutes, he'd promised before stepping through the stargate.

The bright sun in the clear sky had blurred his vision. He'd blinked and wiped his eyes, but he would have sworn that he'd seen a tiger leap over the waterfall in the distance. And all that he saw after was a tall, dark man standing by the edge of the lake turn away from the waterfall to look back curiously at him. And then he, too, had vanished.

Which left the girl.

He'd almost jumped out of his skin when she'd said hello. He watched her now, but she spent most of her time with Daniel.

_"Hello,"_ the voice had said, _"My name is Maya."_

He'd spun around, P-90 raised, trigger-finger twitching, but the small girl who'd spoken never blinked, she just looked up at him innocently.

_"Maya?"_ he'd said. Repeating the obvious gave him a few seconds to think.

_"My name means many things,"_ she'd said quite seriously. _"In your way of thinking it means unreality of matter, of illusion. I am the power to transform; I am transitory and manifold; I am idealism, I am vanity; I..."_ She'd paused at his frown. _"Sometimes, Mother calls me Grace,"_ she'd said, smiling ever so sweetly.

Like the way the temple hovered – uncertain of where it should be – she'd given him the creeps, too. She had flowers in her hair — but not the mass of shrubbery that the Nox did. Her dress was plain and simple — but not as earthy as the Nox wore. Her voice was light and gentle — but more assertive than the Nox ever would be.

_"Your Major is gone,"_ she'd said. _"But she will return."_

He'd stood there with his mouth open as she'd walked toward him, her feet not leaving any impression in the soft grass. Before he could figure out what was going on she'd waved her small fingers in the air to activate the gate, taken his free hand, and had led him through to...

The temple phasing in and out, and the ghostly images of people going about their daily life was bad enough, but the dark red stain close to where Teal'c chose to stand made his skin crawl.

And the girl was worse than Daniel and Carter combined. She spoke in riddles that made Daniel look at her almost with awe. They would stand rooted to the spot or sit quietly out of the way, and all Daniel would say when asked was _Zen_ or _Tau_, as if that was the answer to everything. And if she ever answered his own questions, the answer would be so long and complicated that he didn't have a clue, or so brief... that he still didn't have a clue.

_"This is my home,"_ she'd said... Except that what she'd actually said involved most of the tenses he was familiar with and some that he was sure didn't know whether they were coming or going.

She'd wiggled her fingers and the gate had quietly shut down and just as quietly opened up again. _"Please,"_, she'd said, _"Ask your General Hammond to send Daniel Jackson and the Jaffa Teal'c..."_

He'd held up his hand, trying to impose his own authority, but all she did was grin when Davis answered his call. When Hammond's flustered voice asked him what in heaven's name he was doing, he mentioned the girl and Hammond had practically choked. But then, _"The way that can be taken is not the enduring way."_ he'd heard the General drawl, his voice loud and clear.

_"Ming k'o ming, fei ch'ang ming,"_ the girl laughed back. _"Truly you are a most wise man, General Hammond,"_ she'd said.

So here they all were, and he was still none the wiser.

It was, supposedly, all a matter of trust. Hammond wouldn't elaborate, and he couldn't make any sense of what the girl said. Daniel and Teal'c had come through, and the girl had welcomed them both. At least, she'd said something incomprehensible in Goa'uld to Teal'c, and repeated the sing-song thing – and a whole lot more – to Daniel.

Teal'c had inclined his head respectfully, but he'd never let her out of his sight, or out of range of his staff weapon.

Daniel had gone straight to heaven. He was completely at ease walking through the buildings as they came and went. He even stopped and gave way to the ghosts of the girl's people as they walked about — much to her delight. And all the writing, all the statues and icons, the carvings that decorated the walls, the bright silks and the garlands of flowers... Daniel had hardly stopped asking questions the whole of the first day, but whether he got the answers he was looking for...

Jack just wanted it all to stop, period. Carter, so the girl – and Daniel and Teal'c, for that matter – kept telling him, would turn up _soon_.

The second day came and went – along with mysterious bowls of fruit and vegetables – as did the third and fourth. The fifth day came and brought along with it a tall, well-tanned individual with a thing for tattoos and silk pajamas. The girl called him Father, and he called her Maya. The day went; the man stayed; Jack kept out of their way, kicking his heels.

The sixth day came and so did all the buildings and the people. No one appeared to be at all surprised – not even Daniel or Teal'c – but Jack began kicking at the walls — mainly because of the blisters on his heels. The tall guy had taken up residence in the big temple, there'd been gatherings and speeches and more fresh fruit.

By the time the sun set, everyone had found their place, everyone was happy. Everything had almost returned to normal and the girl had returned to his side, putting her small hand in his.

"There is a connection between us, Colonel O'Neill," Maya said. "We walk among the stars but cannot remain apart. Mother will soon learn that I must die, yet she will walk her path with her head high. But she will not understand, she will not see the truth as I do; that is mine alone."

Of course he'd guessed – only the part about the girl and Carter and the guy in the silk pajamas – but he had guessed. They walked together, neither missing a step, but Jack looked up at the small white moon in an otherwise empty sky. He knew that there was more to the girl; and even more to the quiet guy than he cared to think of.

"Humankind cannot resist interfering. I am my Mother's daughter, in that we are the same," Maya continued. "Daniel in his own way has learned to accept the truth — although Mother will attempt to persuade him otherwise." She squeezed his fingers gently. "And one day, in your own way, you, too, will see it."

They stopped before a low wall enclosing a beautiful garden. Even in the moonlight, Jack could see that the grass was emerald green. A winding path drew his eyes to a tall tree that he knew was as old as the garden itself. And on the grass beneath the tree was a single flower. A ghost of a man sat before it, his eyes shining brightly, but it was clear that they were filled with tears.

"Master Chen lives," Maya said quietly. "He thinks that Mother gave her life for him, that she sacrificed her life to cheat him from me. He sees the flower and weeps for her." Maya laughed gently as Jack glanced down at her. "It was once asked of a Master, _'How does an enlightened one return to the ordinary world?'_" Maya smiled up at Jack's frown. "To which the Master replied, _'A broken mirror never reflects again; fallen flowers never go back to the old branches.'_"

"It is my time to die," Maya said, "But do not be afraid." Jack felt Maya's fingers wriggle free from his hand. "See," Maya said, pointing, "The stars are alive again."

The moon had been shining in an otherwise dark and empty sky, but one by one, the stars were coming out, creating patterns so different from the constellations he knew by heart. He was a long way from home, yet Maya's quiet explanation – which one day he hoped to understand – had managed to put his mind at ease. The ghost in the garden still stared at the flower, but Maya was gone.


	4. Anguished Words of Truth

vande padmakaraaM prasannavadanaaM saubhaagyadaaM bhaagyadaaM  
hastaabhyaamabh ayapradaaM maNigaNairnaanaa vidhairbhuushhitaam.

bhaktaabhiishhTaphalapr adaam harihara brahmaadibhiH sevitaaM  
paarshve paNkaja shaNkhapadmanidhibhi ryuktaam sadaa shaktibhiH.

...

_Slowly, calm returned. All the other deer had fled in panic with her assault of the great stag, scattering the smaller animals before them. Now her great jaws ripped at the stag's throat, her massive claws dug at its flesh. The scent of fresh warm blood filled her nostrils, the taste of it filled her mouth._

But in the new quiet, she knew she was not alone. Behind her she heard the clumsy scampering of her young cub, and its pitiful mewling crying out to her, but she didn't turn away from her kill.

Durga's heart raced as the life of the stag reached her empty stomach. She watched her cub circle the body of the dead stag, but not approaching too close for fear of being swatted away.

And then their eyes met and the cub drew closer, still wary, nostrils flaring at her hot, bloody breath. Closer she came until they almost touched.

The empty husk that had been Anubis lay crumpled at her feet. Sick, black, writhing in confusion and pain, the half-ascended creature clung to its old robes unable to separate itself. And above it, beautiful and bright and glorious, pulsating with energy, Maya hovered.

Behind them, as their battle raged, the gate splashed out. Sam could only watch as the defeated Goa'uld dragged its broken corpse away. Desperate that it shouldn't escape, Sam tried to intercept it, yet Maya stayed between them as it fled.

And when the gate closed, Maya stood tall before her. With a gesture Sam's robe fell away and Maya placed her hands on her shoulders. At her touch, the simple design painted on Sam's body dissolved; at her smile, a new, more intricate design etched itself on her skin; at her sigh, dark and burning pain flooded Sam's senses as the spirit of Durga filled her more completely than ever before; at the single tear welling in her eye, the gate opened again and Maya flung her Mother through it.

Maya stood silently as her Mother raced away from the stars falling in the sky, shaking her head as her mother screamed.

Yet all this while one man had remained, watching quietly. Maya turned to him and smiled. Slowly, he nodded and walked away, fading into the shadows.

...

My name is Maya.

My mother is of the Tau'ri, my father from an old, old people who were but children to the Ancients. Myself, I am neither Ancient nor Tau'ri, yet still I go where I will and do what I will. My mate is Nafrayu of the Nox. Together we walk the stars, journeying from world to world – I have my mother's curiosity – we do not interfere — but we do take... precautions.

I am... old.

Before I was born I flew with the fenri.

Before I was born my spirit found its freedom above the treetops. I sang with delight at the marvelous beauty of the forest and the life teeming within it. I didn't know about comfort or warmth or any of the other things mothers like to associate with their unborn child. There was no remedy to take from the rhythm of Mother's beating heart. I didn't know pain or fear, I knew only joy and delight.

Then the visions began.

True _satori_ came to me with no escape. With it came an awareness of self, of identity. I knew who I was, what I was, where I was. I knew the truth of my Father, whose lineage is so much older than he would believe. I knew my Mother, and the truth of her newly-altered DNA. All that they were unfolded before me.

I _knew_. I _saw_.

Still, there was no fear — the concept was meaningless. The world was simple; it was less complicated to separate illusion from reality, to distinguish the truth. I visited often with Mother in the Garden; I sat with Master Chen; but I could never resist the call of the fenri.

Mother and Father had made their home on the small island where they'd first met, where I was conceived. It was a dangerous time, a paradox, an enigma filled with ghostly images that had no meaning that could be easily explained. It was a learning time.

I am _Maya_.

It is what Nafrayu called me. It was Nafrayu who spoke my true name when I was born. I see the memory in Mother's eyes whenever she looks at me; how Nafrayu had said _"Hello, Maya"_ as if we had known each other for ever, and the look of wonder as Mother held me in her arms for the first time.

My name is Maya. And as I grow, as I wander, as I walk the stars, I will be known by many more names – more than I care to remember – but there will always be some that I may never forget. To some, I am Kali, I am _the black_, the _destroyer_, the darkness that falls. To others...

I was five years old when Mother died. I'd known my whole life that she would. I held Nafrayu's hand so tightly the day she left, I was so afraid that she wouldn't understand that I had to let her die. Nafrayu had helped me make the dye. We'd found the whitest flowers, the freshest leaves and the darkest berries. Father had painted Mother's skin in celebration for what was to come, but even he could not know the truth.

And I was five years old when I died — but I alone have been reborn so many times and kept all the memories of what was and what yet may be.

...

And for the shortest time that lasted forever there was nothing.

The next... _"My God! It's full of..."_ Sam blushed as the stars faded, as a new world solidified about her — as a new aspect of the warrior settled gently before her.

"What is this place?" Sam asked. "I mean, even now I can see in you all the warriors, all the women that have carried Durga before, and we are the last." She hesitated. "But... this place?"

"Always questions," the warrior said. "I remember how difficult it was at first for me to understand, but I was young then," she smiled. "I have always known all that you know; I have always known all that you will ask. We are here, now, and yet all you wonder is how you returned? Your thoughts are so ten-dimensional."

"But there are only ten – well, eleven, – but —"

"And it depends where you start counting. You learned that lesson before; you taught it to Daniel."

"But..." Sam knew her instinct was to answer and think later, refining her thought processes, reducing a problem to its simplest form. "Feynman stated that quantum tunneling allows..."

"Always it's _quantum_," the disappointment in her voice was almost painful. "I am not you, nor am I what you will be. Forget Planck and Schrodinger and Feynman; yes, photons travel the path of least time, but forget about solving the sum over histories, at least until you can do it for more than hydrogen atoms. Remember what you were taught. Where is the broken mirror?"

"But...," Sam started.

"Always it's _but_."

The shape of the warrior solidified before her, became sharper, losing the previous incarnations. "Time is a state of mind," Sam said.

"Yes, yes, yes. And space is an illusion," the warrior said impatiently. "The way beyond is so much more than the eleven dimensions of time and space that you know. But there are limitations; it's harmful even to us if we travel to where we should not be."

"And yet —"

"We do not interfere," the warrior corrected her. "Yet here I am with you now, and perhaps together we might find the answers that we both seek."

"And we are the last." Sam didn't smile. "What should I call you? Are you really Maya?" Sam laughed, but there was no joy to it. "Ah, but your skin is clear. Are you Grace? Or have you chosen some other name?"

"Yes, I am Maya. I will always be your daughter, just as I will always be Grace to watch over you. But you would be the lever of life upon times... Three worlds, Mother. You will persist in the eternal garden to defy me — yes, I know that, too. You will see the Master Chen reborn, just as I know that you will try to turn Daniel away from me."

"I do love you, Maya, but —" Sam began, understanding dawning.

"And you," Maya interrupted, "You would return to Father, to rebuild what his people once had. And you would continue to walk with your own people, too; to sacrifice your life for your Colonel. Yet you will not join with me and walk with mine?" Maya closed her eyes, turning away.

"It has to be, Mother," Maya continued. "What I am now... You will watch me die so that I will live on. And what was done to stop Anubis when he ascended... I would not allow it then just as I would not let Daniel stop him. I see more than you do, Mother. Do not blame yourself," Maya paused. She knew her Mother had already left. "And do not blame me because my way is not yours," she finished quietly.


End file.
